


New Kind Of Torture

by SweetestHoney



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, little or no context lol, this ain't all that sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-18
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24258442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetestHoney/pseuds/SweetestHoney
Summary: Peter Parker, captured by HYDRA, is treated to a special kind of torture by one Brock Rumlow.Please see tags for warnings before reading.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 71





	New Kind Of Torture

**Author's Note:**

> Little to no plot or explanation? Who, me? Every once in a blue moon when I get pissed off enough it is indeed possible, lol. Don't like, don't read - I will brook no comments complaining that it is exactly what I tagged it as.

“Shut up.” The words were punctuated with a backhand that caught Peter in the jaw, knocking his head to the side. Peter clenched his jaw, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction of crying out. It hurt quite a bit, though, and he squeezed his eyes closed in hopes of not giving that away. 

Whatever Rumlow had given him to take away his powers was effective, he had to give the man that. Almost as soon as Peter felt the pinprick, his strength began draining away and he started to feel aches and pains at being tied up for so long so much more acutely. 

A growl came from in front of him and Peter tensed, expecting another blow. When he finally opened his eyes, the man had turned away from him, and looked like he was glaring at the door, where Peter noticed there was a lackey standing and looking worried. Peter tried to focus, to listen to what the man was saying, but he couldn’t make his head work properly and he couldn’t make the sounds into words. 

When the man was finished speaking, Rumlow growled again before dismissing him with an aggressive motion, and the man skedaddled, clearly not willing to get any more in the way of Rumlow and his target. 

Rumlow turned back to Peter, eyes furious. “Your little friends are trying to find you, little spider, and it’s messing up my operation here.” 

Peter couldn’t help it – he flinched both at the man’s tone and the look in his eyes. “I - I’m not-” 

“Did I not just tell you to shut the fuck up?” Rumlow’s words were yelled and Peter flinched again, expecting another blow. The man didn’t reach to hit him again, however, and instead he looked disturbingly thoughtful. “Hmm, well if you’re going to insist that I shut you up the hard way, well, so be it.” Peter did  _ not _ like the sound of that, and he renewed his struggles against the coarse rope binding him to the chair, trying to kick out with his legs and failing. 

He didn’t dare try to speak again, but Peter could tell it was too late and that Rumlow already had an idea. 

The man crossed the room towards him, stopping barely six inches from where Peter’s feet were tied to the legs of the chair. Peter looked up, up, up to his face, gulping as he saw the man’s wicked smirk. 

“Hmm, little spider, you’re going to make me shut you up, aren’t you?” Peter shook his head, but Rumlow ignored him. The man reached for him and wedged a thumb into Peter’s mouth, forcing it open. “If you bite me, you’re going to wish I’d killed you.” 

That was pretty much all the warning Peter got, and in the next second the man was unzipping his tactical pants with his other hand, pulling down his fly just far enough that he could pull out his dick, which was already hardening as he stroked himself. Peter felt his eyes widen and he looked back at the man’s face, hoping against hope that he wasn’t serious. 

The thumb in his mouth worked his jaw open further, so wide he heard it pop uncomfortably, and then the thumb was gone, replaced by something much bigger. Peter shut his eyes, not wanting to see what was happening, and resisted the urge to bite down. 

Rumlow wasn’t gentle, and he slid his dick into Peter’s open mouth, forcing him open. Peter took a deep breath in through his nose, trying to ignore the smell of the other man, and choked when Rumlow’s dick hit the back of his throat. Rumlow didn’t let up when Peter choked, and Peter gulped over and over again, trying to get himself used to the sensation. It only partially worked, and as Rumlow started pulling out of Peter’s throat and thrusting back in shallowly, Peter choked about one thrust in three. 

By the time Rumlow got a good rhythm going, tears leaked steadily out of Peter’s eyes and his throat felt  _ raw _ . Rumlow seemed unaffected by it, or at least, he wasn’t turned off by Peter’s inability to control his gag reflex – on one particularly hard thrust, Rumlow actually chuckled, and it was a low, dark noise, something that sent a spark up Peter’s spine. 

Peter wasn’t sure how long it lasted; he gave up trying to keep track, instead letting his mind drift, lost in the haze of getting throatfucked. Rumlow started grunting at some point and Peter hoped that meant he was about to come, that he’d finally be done with Peter. Rumlow had other plans, though, and instead of finishing in Peter’s mouth, he pulled out, stepping back. 

Peter’s jaw ached, and he looked back up towards the man’s face, drool dripping down his chin since he couldn’t wipe it off. Rumlow seemed to like that, and he bent forward, sliding one finger over Peter’s wet skin like it was a novelty. 

“Hmm, you’re better at sucking cock than I would have thought, spidey; or at least, you’re better at taking it.” Rumlow’s words were muttered and Peter squirmed, not liking the dark promises they spelled about his future. “Maybe I should... hmm.” 

Peter wasn’t sure what that meant, but when Rumlow reached into one of his pockets and pulled out a pocketknife, flicking it open, Peter felt his heartbeat speed up. Rumlow didn’t cut him with it, however, instead leaning over to slice a neat line up the ropes holding Peter’s arms to the chair before doing the same to the rope around his ankles. Peter blinked up at him, confused as to why he was cutting Peter free, and Rumlow laughed again. 

Instead of answering Peter’s questioning look, Rumlow just lifted one booted foot and kicked the chair over, sending Peter toppling to the floor as his limbs refused to support him when he tried to throw them out to catch himself. Peter landed face-first on the hard wood, and Rumlow laughed again when he tried to prop himself up on his palms and found his arms wouldn’t support him. 

“Aww, poor spidey; all your strength is gone.” The words were mocking, and Peter felt a hand grab his collar. It yanked and he was drawn up, the man hoisting him up easily. 

Rumlow didn’t set him on his feet, and honestly, Peter was fairly certain that his feet wouldn’t have supported him if he’d tried. Instead, he walked two or three steps over to the low bench that sat next to the table on which he’d placed most of his torture instruments, and dropped Peter unceremoniously. Peter landed with a thud over the bench, all the wind knocked out of him by the blow. 

Peter focused on breathing, on taking one deep inhale, because the hard landing had made it nearly impossible, and he was so focused on that that he almost didn’t hear Rumlow walking away from him, the man’s footsteps quiet as a cat. 

He did catch the noise as the man shifted something on the table, and Peter looked up to see Rumlow shifting through the things he’d laid out with a slight frown. As he looked, he wasn’t paying any attention to Peter, and Peter used the time to study the man. 

Rumlow was, first and foremost, unforgivingly attractive. Peter both hated himself for noticing that, and hated the man for being so, but it was the truth. The man’s jawline, when Peter had first seen him, had done funny things to Peter’s insides, and he’d harbored (secret, dark) fantasies of the man one day doing something very similar to this, albeit with a fair bit more consent. Rumlow had paid Peter’s wishes no mind, however, and seemed determined to ruin every good thing Peter had ever had in his life. 

As he looked through the instruments on the table, Rumlow finally found what he was looking for and he grinned, the expression lighting up his face. Peter gulped, again struggling to breathe (although this time it wasn’t from his hard landing on the wooden bench) and tried to inch himself back, away from the man. 

There was nowhere he could have gone, since Peter was pretty much locked inside the room with him (unless the door was left unlocked, and even then Peter was pretty sure that his legs wouldn’t support him if he got them underneath himself) but he couldn’t fight the urge to try to escape. Peter edged his knees away from the man’s form, sliding himself towards the end of the bench inch by painful inch, until Rumlow turned back towards him. 

The man, upon seeing Peter’s slight movement, frowned at him. Peter felt a hot rush of some unidentified emotion sweep through him, and fought the strong urge to beg for his life. Peter knew Rumlow couldn’t kill him just yet, since he still had information the man wanted, but it wouldn’t stop Rumlow from using every device on the table to get Peter as close as he possibly could to death. 

Rumlow stalked back over to Peter and kicked him hard in the side, effectively ending Peter’s escape attempts as Peter’s body went limp, his head dropping down as he fought the wave of pain that washed over him. 

“Really? You’re gonna what, run?” Rumlow’s boot nudged Peter in the thigh. “On these legs? I don’t think so, darling, not unless you’ve got a spare pair of legs somewhere that haven’t been tied to a chair for the better part of thirty-six hours.” He was right and Peter knew it, but he’d never admit it. He had to try  _ something _ . 

Once he had some of his strength back (what little reserves he’d had, anyway), Peter lifted his head again, looking at Rumlow as the man stepped around Peter’s body, his tactical boots bracketing Peter’s feet as Peter knelt, his stomach and chest leaning over the bench. 

Peter realized the position he was in very suddenly, and his eyes flew open as he tried to push himself up, push himself away. Rumlow chuckled that goddamned chuckle again, the one that wouldn’t stop sending shivers down Peter’s spine, and easily repositioned Peter so he lay more firmly over the bench, his ass fully in the air. 

“Oh, no you don’t, you little shit.” Rumlow landed a hard smack to Peter’s ass and Peter couldn’t help the cry it drew from him. “You were unlucky enough to land your ass in my base, and you’re going to pay the price.” Large hands came to rest on Peter’s ass, squeezing the flesh there. It was more than a loverly pat and his fingers dug in through the thin material of Peter’s pants; it  _ hurt _ . He bit his lip, not wanting to make any more noises and give the man the satisfaction. Instead, Peter focused on breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth. 

Rumlow seemed satisfied that Peter wasn’t going to reply after another long moment, and he let go of Peter’s ass. His hands didn’t go far, however, and Peter felt him run his fingers along the hem of Peter’s pants before he tugged them down roughly, exposing Peter’s bare ass to the air. 

Peter grunted, wriggling as he tried to find a way to lay over the bench that was less exposed, and found that there wasn’t one. Rumlow didn’t seem to mind, he let go of Peter for a moment, seemingly content to watch Peter squirm. 

After another moment, though, Peter felt something cool and slippery drip onto the skin of his lower back, and he looked up wildly, trying to find the source. 

The source was Rumlow, who was holding a small bottle of something as he stood over Peter, holding it upside down and watching as it dripped steadily onto Peter’s ass. Peter resisted the urge to flinch, and when Rumlow caught his eyes and grinned, he couldn’t look away. 

“Mmm-hmm, I knew you were gonna be a good little slut for me.” Rumlow’s words were  _ dirty _ and Peter felt a flush coming to his cheeks as he tried to wriggle away from the dripping liquid. He found himself caught between Rumlow’s feet, which didn’t let him budge an inch in either direction, and finally gave up, letting Rumlow hold him in place. “Aww, no more fight in you? Gonna give it up in hopes that I’ll be gentle?” Rumlow’s voice was mocking now, and Peter looked back towards the ground, not wanting to see the other man’s face. 

Rumlow leaned forward, putting his mouth level with Peter’s ear. “Don’t worry, I promise I won’t be gentle.” The words were whispered and Peter, to his absolute mortification and shame, found himself getting hard against the rough wood of the bench. He tried to shift, to hide it somehow, but Rumlow saw the motion. 

He closed the bottle of what Peter assumed was some kind of oil or lube and placed it on the bench next to Peter. Peter couldn’t even look at it, and kept his head down, hoping against hope that the man wouldn’t notice his dick had taken an interest in the proceedings. 

Rumlow’s hands on his hips brought Peter’s focus away from his own traitorous dick and back to Rumlow’s, which was still hard and spit-slick as he knelt behind Peter. One of Rumlow’s thick, muscular thighs bracketed Peter’s legs on either side, giving him no recourse or space to move. Peter sucked in a breath when he felt Rumlow reach down and rub his dick along Peter’s now slippery hole, his other hand squeezing Peter’s flesh and holding him open for Rumlow to look. Peter squirmed against the man’s grip on his ass, trying to escape the scrutiny, and Rumlow let go of his own dick to land another slap against Peter’s ass. It hurt even more without the thin barrier of his pants in between the skin of Peter’s ass and Rumlow’s palm, and Peter cried out again, a high pitched noise. 

“Oh  _ fuck, _ kid, you’re–” Rumlow murmured somwhere behind Peter, his voice rolling like smooth honey. “Damn, you make the prettiest noises for me, huh?” Peter sniffed, not responding, and closed his eyes. 

Rumlow pressed his dick against Peter’s hole again, and this time the pressure was more insistent, more forceful. Peter winced, trying to spread his legs to ease the way, but his knees were trapped together by Rumlow’s legs, making the pressure even tighter. 

As the head of Rumlow’s dick breached his hole, Peter cried out again, letting his head fall forwards at the stretch. The lube had eased the way enough that the friction wasn’t tearing at him, but the stretch of the man’s cock still burned and Peter felt himself taking small gasping inhales, trying to ignore the pain. 

Rumlow growled behind him, and a hand fisted in his hair, pulling his head back. In the same motion, the man shifted his hips and slid home, bottoming out inside of Peter with a grunt. 

All of the breath in Peter’s lungs left him in a rush, and he squeezed his eyes closed. The man was  _ big _ , and despite him pausing to let Peter get used to the feeling (well, Peter wasn’t sure that’s what he was doing – really, he was probably trying not to come or something equally awful, so he’d be able to fuck Peter for a longer amount of time), Peter felt like he was being split in half on the man’s dick. 

“Oh  _ fuck, _ you’re tight, kid, shit.” The hand in Peter’s hair didn’t let up even as Rumlow grunted, his hips not pulling out exactly, but shifting against Peter’s own in small movements. To his mortification, Peter did actually feel his body getting used to the intrusion, and once some of the pain dialed back a little, he felt his dick responding. 

Rumlow didn’t seem to notice, however, and as Peter started to unclench around him slightly, he tested the waters, pulling out an inch before driving back in. Peter gasped at the sensation as it renewed some of the pain and also seemed to brush against something inside of him that had sparks shooting up and down his spine. Rumlow seemed to decide that Peter was as ready as he would ever be, and he let go of Peter’s hair once more to plant both of his hands on Peter’s hips, getting leverage so he could thrust into Peter more easily. 

Peter wasn’t sure what he’d ever done in a past life to deserve this, but dual pain and pleasure sensations as Rumlow fucked into him were sending his body haywire. Since his ability to feel pain was usually lessened (and he healed pretty quickly), this newer sensation of pain seemed sharper somehow, and almost complimented the pleasure that was Rumlow rutting against that spot inside him every few thrusts or so. Peter gasped loudly at one particularly hard thrust, and he heard Rumlow make an interested noise from behind him. 

Despite Peter’s desperation to hide himself, Rumlow wrapped one arm around Peter’s middle, tugging him up and off of the bench slightly, letting the man reach under him to get one hand around Peter’s half-hard dick. The approving rumble Rumlow let out was not much more than a vibration as he pressed his front along the lines of Peter’s back, fucking into him even harder now as he pumped Peter with his hand. 

“Oh, now here’s a little surprise, hmm? Spidey likes it rough, wants to be played with like a little fucktoy now, don’t you?” There were tears in Peter’s eyes now and he wasn’t sure when they got there, and he shook his head, both trying to dislodge them as well as in response to the man’s question. Rumlow chuckled in his ear again and didn’t let up, fucking Peter faster, and Peter heard the slapping of their bodies coming together echoing against the walls around them. 

When Rumlow thrust particularly hard into him, pressing against that pleasurable spot inside of him with unerring accuracy, Peter’s breath left him in a sob and Rumlow made a noise of pleasure, leaning forward again to bite harsh marks in the skin of Peter’s neck, bruising him easily. 

Peter couldn’t do much of anything, his whole body working against him at this point, and he felt helpless in the man’s grip. Rumlow, for his part, seemed perfectly content to manipulate Peter’s body to his wishes, needing nothing from Peter as he easily fucked into him and jerked him with one hand. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Rumlow’s breathing changed, got more labored, and Peter felt him thrusting harder until with a grunt, the man came, a warm wetness inside of Peter that threatened to push him over the edge as well. As it was, Rumlow’s hand sped up on Peter’s dick, almost too much, until Peter was spilling himself into Rumlow’s fist with a broken cry, losing himself in the momentary pleasure even as he fought to keep his head. 

When Peter was finally finished coming and he could halfway think again, he found his body was as unsteady as a newborn foal, and he knew he wouldn’t have had the strength to hold his head up, let alone stand, had he been given the opportunity to do so. Rumlow, however, was heavy against his back, his skin warm and smooth and pressing Peter into the bench painfully as both of them lay there for long moments, regaining their breath. 

Rumlow finally stirred, however, and propped himself up with his hands on either side of Peter’s chest, laying over the bench. When he leaned back, he unstuck his chest from Peter’s back, but left them joined more intimately for another few moments. He groaned then, and pulled out of Peter more gently than Peter would have expected, although it was probably more due to the man’s own sensitivity and not any consideration of Peter himself. 

Peter didn’t move after the other man pulled back, content to lie facedown over the bench for as long as he would be allowed. He wasn’t in any hurry to get back to being tortured in more normal, straightforward ways, and he let his arms hang down in front of him, feeling the cum trickling out of his ass as Rumlow pulled away. 

“Well, kid, I have to say, I wasn’t expecting you to be as good a fuck as you were.” Rumlow’s voice was more or less back to normal, and the rough honey tone he used as he fucked Peter was gone. Peter tried to make himself happy for that, but instead he just felt empty. Rumlow landed another smack to Peter’s ass before he stood, clearly enjoying himself, and he laughed outright when Peter stiffened and yelped at the unexpected feeling. 

There was a knock at the door and Peter tensed; or well, he tried to but his muscles seemed rather uncooperative. Rumlow, from behind him, stood, and Peter heard him refastening his pants, tucking his dick away with ease. Peter had half a moment for the thought that Rumlow had fucked him while fully clothed, while he still had  _ shoes _ on, but then Rumlow was walking over to the door with sure strides. 

Peter didn’t want to be seen like this by anyone, and he tried to lift his head to watch the exchange of whoever was at the door and Rumlow. Rumlow shot a glance back towards Peter before he pulled the door open and when he did, he only opened it wide enough for the person there to see him standing there, using his body to block anyone else’s view of Peter behind him. Peter felt himself flush, not expecting the rather kind gesture from the man, and he tried to tell himself that Rumlow probably didn’t want anyone else asking to take a turn and stretching him out or anything. 

The conversation at the door was quiet and hurried, sounding urgent in low tones. Rumlow growled a few times and the sound was now hardwired to provoke a reaction from Peter, although what the reaction was Peter wasn’t sure, since his body was still so far from being under his control. 

When the conversation at the door ceased, Rumlow closed it with a snap and turned back to face Peter, a frown on his face. 

“Your little friends are on the way.” Instead of hope, Peter only felt more despair at those words. Either the Avengers would burst in here and find him, well, like  _ this, _ or Rumlow was planning to move him before they got there, and neither option was one that Peter particularly liked. Rumlow’s next words confirmed Peter’s suspicions that he wasn’t exactly in for a cheery end to the day. “Much fun as it’s been, my spider, I don’t have enough of my little mixture to keep you powerless until I could get you to my safehouse, so this is where we part ways.” He walked back over to where Peter still lay more or less unable to move, and fisted a hand in Peter’s hair almost casually, tilting his head back so he could look Peter in the eyes. “It’s been fun, though, and I’m looking forward to seeing you again, hmm?” 

He dropped Peter’s head back down unceremoniously and started gathering his tools, packing them away with an efficiency Peter envied. Once the room was free of any indications that Rumlow had been there at all, save Peter, he turned to Peter, gave him a smile that was full of dirty, terrifying promise, and left the room, leaving Peter laying in a small puddle of come, his pants pulled to his knees as he waited for his friends to find him. 


End file.
